* * * *
Elspeth wished her mother had come with her to Lisbon as she usually did, but Major Gordon had just recovered from a bout of Guadiana fever and Mrs. Gordon was convinced only her continuing presence would keep the major from suffering a relapse. So Elspeth descended the stairs alone, looking around for a familiar face.
The Count de Sousa sent his son over to escort her in to supper and Elspeth smiled gratefully as he took her arm. To her relief and pleasure, she was seated next to Lieutenant Morrison and chatted away with him, all the while wondering whether the empty seat to her right would eventually be filled or whether the count’s guest had had to cancel at the last minute.
Just as they were beginning to serve the first course, Elspeth heard a stir at the door and the count’s butler entered the dining room and whispered in his master’s ear. “Tell him to come in,” said the count.
“I beg your pardon, my lord, Lady de Sousa. I was unavoidably detained. I tried just to leave my apologies with your butler. I didn’t want to disturb dinner.”
“Nonsense. Jose, show Captain, my Lord Wimborne to his place next to Miss Gordon,” said the contessa.
James’s face lit up when he heard the name and Elspeth had a warm smile for him when he sat down.
“Jamie! What a delightful surprise. I am so happy to see you. Did you just arrive from England? And how is Lady Maddie?”
“She is still in alt, planning her coming Season, Elspeth.”
“Her last letter was very enthusiastic,” said Elspeth with a grin. “And Maddie is such a dear and attractive young woman that I am sure her Season will be everything she is hoping for. She also told me of the heavy responsibilities you had to take on after your father’s death, James,” Elspeth added more seriously. “She is very grateful to you for making sure she had a Season.”
“And I am grateful to her for understanding it had to be put off last spring. Her only disappointment is that you will not be making your come-out with her, Elspeth.”
“I prefer the army to Society, as you know, James. But I am hoping, depending upon the situation here, to attend Maddie’s come-out ball. Now, what brings you here, James? I thought you were stationed at Whitehall.”
“I have been asked to join Wellington’s staff, Elspeth.”
“Why, that is splendid.”
“I was pleased. Especially since it meant getting out from under Townsend.”
“I can understand why. Papa does not hold the colonel in very high regard, James,” said Elspeth with a straight face but a twinkle in her eye.
They both grinned at the thought of the unrepeatable comments Major Gordon had made on his last leave about his superior officer. He had at one time or another cursed his ancestors, his stupidity, and his vanity, not to mention threatening his life and his manhood.
“May I claim a dance after supper?” James asked before he turned to do his duty to the lady on his other side.
“Of course.”
* * * *
Elspeth was a great favorite with both the British and allied officers and she only sat out one dance, and that with Lieutenant Morrison, who was recovering from a leg wound. All the men enjoyed her down-to-earth manner and her dry sense of humor. Dancing with Elspeth Gordon was like dancing with your sister or your best friend from childhood: a breath of fresh air after being mesmerized by the exotic flowers of the Portuguese nobility.
Elspeth enjoyed herself as she usually did after her initial self-consciousness wore off, but she looked forward the whole evening to her dance with James Lambert. The brother of her good friend from Mrs. Page’s, he was someone she felt an intimacy with that went beyond the friendship she had with the other officers.
It was a comfortable intimacy, she mused, as they made their way to the dance floor. She had danced with James before, but only country dances, and she wondered whether a waltz, that daring Continental dance, would add another element to their friendship. But as well as they danced together, the warmth she felt from his hand lightly guiding her was the warmth of affection. There was no additional heat sparked between them by the closeness of the dance.
Elspeth had to confess she felt a twinge of disappointment. James had become a friend over the two years she had known Maddie and she had wondered from time to time whether the easy camaraderie they had with each other might transform into something more. But for all he was one of the most handsome men she knew, she had to confess that her flickers of curiosity were only that. Perhaps if he had acted differently, she would have felt something more for him. Or perhaps if she had been moved to flirt with him, he might have responded.
But it seemed clear to her at least that their pleasure in one another’s company was uncomplicated by any more sensual feeling. It was too bad one of the men she most liked in the world was only a good friend. “ ‘Only,’ Elspeth,” she scolded herself later. A good friend of either sex was a precious thing, she reminded herself, but occasionally she couldn’t help longing for something more, something she was likely not destined to have.
* * * *
Not for the first or the last time, Val cursed the stony, narrow tracks of the Portuguese mountains slowly and fluently in English and Spanish and Portuguese as his horse stumbled and almost fell going downhill. He had to dismount yet again if he wanted to keep the animal’s legs sound. “I know it isn’t your fault,” he said as he led the horse along, the reins looped over his right arm, his rifle in his left.
Below him was a wider road that he thought wise to avoid, considering the dispatches he was carrying, and when he heard an approaching vehicle, he dropped down behind an outcropping of boulders to see who would be traveling so late in the afternoon.
He was not expecting a private traveling coach. Nor the small group of bandits who swarmed down upon it from the other side of the hill, taking the driver and the guard completely by surprise.
It was hard to tell from where he was if the driver was English or Portuguese. Not that it mattered, he thought with a grimace. There was little one man could do against five. He was turning away when he heard the woman screaming.
The guard was dead, that was obvious. The driver might be, though Val thought he saw him twitch a few times. The woman was alive—for now, at least. After they got through with her, she would be happy enough to be dead.
Except, of course, he couldn’t stand by and do nothing while that happened. So in a few minutes, they would both be dead, he thought with an ironic smile: he from a bandit bullet and she from one of his own to save her from worse. He pulled his pistol from his belt and, giving a yell that echoed across the pass, brought down one of the bandits. As he reloaded, he saw the woman, who had slumped against her captor, bite his hand before pulling away from him. As the man’s mouth opened to yelp his surprise and pain, his head exploded. The woman had been as quick as a cat, thought Val, with a somewhat horrified grin. She’d taken her captor’s pistol and blown his head off, by God! But now she was standing there with an empty weapon. He hit one of the remaining three in the arm and then scrambled down the side of the trail, trying to keep his footing and dodge the bullets at the same time.
They didn’t expect one man to rush them and surprise was on his side when he swung his rifle butt at one villain who was trying to reload. The other two were occupied: one trying to drag the woman backward to throw her in the coach, the other heading for the driver’s seat. But Val had been right: The driver was still alive and thrust at his attacker with a knife. They died together, the bandit from the knife across his throat and the driver by the shot fired as the bandit’s finger convulsively closed over the trigger. Val silently blessed the driver for his sacrifice as he rushed the fifth and last man.
His weapons were empty and he only had his hands. He butted the man in the kidney, which made him let go of his prisoner. As the man turned, Val kneed him in the groin and, as the man fell, broke his neck with one swift downward movement of his boot.
He stood there, dazed and winded, amazed to be
alive. Then he heard the woman retching. My God, if it hadn’t been for her quick reflexes, they’d both be dead.
He let her empty her stomach before he approached her. She was about to wipe her mouth on her skirt when he thrust a handkerchief at her.
“Here. It’s not very clean, but it’s better than your dress.”
She looked up at him blankly as if she had no idea who he was and then sank back against the coach with a little moan as she saw the twisted neck of the bandit on the ground in front of her. She looked up and said with a combination of thankfulness and horror, “You broke his neck.” Her eyes flickered over to where her own victim lay. “And I killed a man,” she whispered.
Val took his handkerchief back. “Have you any water?”
The woman looked at him blankly.
“A canteen?”
She nodded slowly, but it was clear she was too much in shock even to gesture, so Val rummaged around until he found it. He held the canteen to her lips and said, “Here, drink some.” She took a few weak swallows and then Val took the canteen and drank thirstily. He poured some water on his handkerchief and, asking “May I?”, gently began to wipe her face. It wasn’t until the square of linen turned pink that she realized why and looked down at herself.
When she saw how her cloak and her dress were spattered with blood, she gagged.
“Take a deep breath, ma’am, and try to keep that water down,” Val told her gently. Her face was so white he was afraid she was going to faint, so he crouched down beside her and pushed her head between her knees and gingerly rubbed his hand in light circles on her back. When her breathing became less ragged, he pulled back and she lifted her head and looked at him thankfully. Her eyes were hazel and Val had the fleeting thought that they were the most open and honest eyes he had ever seen.
“You are a British officer?” she asked.
“Lieutenant Valentine Aston. Late of the Eleventh Foot, and recently reassigned to Captain Grant’s service. I am one of his exploring officers.”
“Then that explains what you are doing out here alone.”
“May I have the pleasure of your acquaintance, madam?” Val asked with dry humor, as though they were in a drawing room.
She blushed. “I am Elspeth Gordon, Lieutenant. My father is Major Ian Gordon.”
“I have not yet had the pleasure of being introduced to him, Miss Gordon, but I know he is a well-respected officer.”
“One of Wellington’s best,” she said proudly.
“Are you on your way to visit your father?”
“Oh, no, I am on my way home from Lisbon. My mother and I have followed the drum since I was little,” she added with a smile.
The coach moved forward a little as the horses grew restless and Val suddenly remembered where they were: far from Lisbon and not close enough to Wellington’s quarters to be safe from any other bandits who may come upon them.
“We’ve got to get out of here, Miss Gordon,” said Val, standing up and offering her his hand. She took it and he helped her to her feet. “How well do you ride?”
“Very well,” she answered stoutly.
“You can take my horse and I’ll cut one of the coach horses free,” said Val, moving as he spoke. “If there is anything you desperately need from the coach, please take it, but we can’t bring all your luggage, I’m afraid.”
Elspeth looked down at her dress again. “I…I would so much like to change my dress, Lieutenant. I can do it quickly,” she added as she saw him begin to open his mouth in protest. “That is, if you can help me?” She was already untying her cloak and Val just stood there as she approached him. “If you could just unpin me?” she asked shyly.
He stepped forward and tried to pretend she was one of the women he had helped undress over the years. He had had a few respectable women, so he was not ignorant of how to unfasten a fashionable gown. He didn’t think he’d ever undressed such a tall woman before, though, he thought with a quick smile as he realized her head came up to his chin.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Miss Gordon held up the bodice of her gown with great dignity and climbed into the coach to pull her other traveling dress out of her bag.
She had been quick about it, Val admitted as he helped her fasten the light wool burgundy gown she had changed into. He placed her cloak around her shoulders and she gave him a smile. “I am grateful for your understanding, Lieutenant. I don’t think I could have faced another minute in that dress,” she added with an involuntary shudder.
* * * *
It wasn’t until Elspeth was in the saddle and they were on their way down the narrow track that paralleled the road that she became fully conscious of her situation and her surroundings. It had all happened so fast: the rifle fire, the men surrounding the coach, pulling her out. She could feel the bandit’s fingers tightening cruelly over her arm and smell the garlic on his breath as he leaned forward to smack his wet lips against her cheek, promising her more where that came from. She had gone limp with shock and fear and hopelessness. But then she’d heard another rifle shot and, seeing one of the men go down and without even thinking about it, she’d bitten her captor’s hand and twisted away from him while grabbing the pistol tucked in his sash. She started to shiver again as the sounds and smells came back, but made herself take deep breaths as she concentrated on how her horse picked his way slowly over the rocks that studded the narrow trail.
Almost as if he knew what she was thinking, Lieutenant Aston turned in his saddle and asked, “Have you ever fired a pistol before, Miss Gordon?”
“My father made sure I knew how to fire a rifle and a pistol by the time I was thirteen, Lieutenant. I’ve never had to use one on a human being before,” she added, her voice trembling.
“The first man you kill and know that you kill is always the hardest,” Val said automatically.
“I sincerely hope that my first man was my last, Lieutenant,” she said simply, her voice steady again. “I appreciate your attempt at comfort, however,” she added with a grin. “It sounds like something you’ve said before?”
Val blushed. “Yes, I guess it is. I didn’t realize how automatic the words sounded.”
“Does it get easier, Lieutenant Aston?”
“I have never enjoyed it, if that is what you mean. But you do get used to it. And I have been lucky. I have not been in combat that often.”
“I don’t think I could ever get used to it,” Elspeth replied with a shudder.
“Then you are lucky you are not a soldier, Miss Gordon. But we are both lucky you killed a man today. We’d both be dead if it wasn’t for you and your driver.”
“Whyever did you fire, then, if you thought it was hopeless?”
“I couldn’t stand by and watch them…er…molest you, Miss Gordon. I would have shot you before I let that happen.”
Elspeth blanched. “You would have killed me?”
“Or let you have my pistol to do it yourself,” Val replied matter-of-factly. “Believe me, death would be preferable to being in the hands of such men. And they would have killed you afterward anyway,” he added bluntly. “So we both have reason to be grateful to your unconventional upbringing!”
The sun was almost down and when Elspeth’s horse stumbled over some loose rocks, she looked longingly at the road beneath them.
“Can’t we travel on the road, Lieutenant, now that it is getting dark?”
Val pulled his horse up and turned to face her again. “I’d like nothing better myself. But I am carrying a stolen dispatch back to headquarters and cannot risk being caught with it. I am sure that those bandits were not the only ones around. When they are found, I want to be well hidden.”
Elspeth sighed. “Will we ride all night, then, Lieutenant?”
“I’d like to get as far away from here as possible while we still have some light. Can you hold out?”
“I can,” Elspeth replied stoutly.
“That’s my girl,” Val said without thinking, and then stammered an apology.
Elspeth smothered a grin and told him not to be foolish. “We have gone through enough together to release us from some of the formalities.”
As they rode on, Elspeth began to pay more attention to the man in front of her. He was a little above average height, she thought, with satisfyingly broad shoulders and muscular thighs. He was a natural rider, moving comfortably with his horse as it made its way up and down the rises along the track. Once in a while he would put his hand on the horse’s haunches to shift himself, and she realized that if she was getting stiff and tired, he must be even more so, for at least she had a saddle.
Still, her legs were being chafed raw, she realized, shifting a little herself. She was used to riding astride, with breeches under a split skirt.
Her cloak kept her covered over her hiked-up dress, but it couldn’t protect her against the hard leather of the saddle, and her cotton stockings did nothing to keep her legs from rubbing against the stirrup leathers. Perhaps the lieutenant was the more comfortable one after all, she thought as she shifted again.
It was growing dark and the moon was not yet beginning to rise when they heard it: the faint sound of horses’ hooves and jingling bridles. The lieutenant was off his horse and lifting her down before she had a chance to think.
“Perhaps they are English, or Ordenanza,” she whispered.
“They may be, but I want the horses out of sight just in case. Stay here,” said Val, pushing her down behind a boulder.
Elspeth huddled there as the rider came closer. Val was back in a moment and crouched down next to her. The riders were getting closer and finally they could tell they were Portuguese. Elspeth let out her breath in a half-gasp, half-sigh. “They could be allies,” she whispered hopefully.
“I doubt it and we can’t risk waiting. They will have seen the coach and know that someone is out here. They are going slowly because they are looking for us. We must find a place to hide before the moon comes up.”
Half-crouching, half-crawling, they made their way off the track and up the rocky hill. Every few minutes a stone would dislodge and go rolling down behind them. Whenever it happened, Elspeth would freeze until Val pulled her along behind him.
Red, Red Rose Page 5